


THIS

by EvanBlack



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, POV Dana Scully, POV Fox Mulder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:13:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23339710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvanBlack/pseuds/EvanBlack
Summary: Scully wants more than this. Whatever the hell THIS is...
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	THIS

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not re-post to any other site without writer's permission.

‘What IS this Mulder?’

‘What’s what Scully?’

‘THIS!’

Dana Scully twitched a vague hand at the basement office. Dark, musty, chaotic. The same posters and clippings and mad theories on the walls - which Mulder added to on a regular basis - all yellowing quietly as they grew older. And older.

‘This?’ He said, looking around. ‘This is our work Scully. Our life.’

He’d said that once before and she’d come back at him with YOUR life Mulder…  but right now she couldn’t even say that with any conviction. This was his life. But it was hers too, whether it was the one she wanted or not. She felt a little wobble of self pity in her lower lip, and bit it back.

‘But what IS it?’

He looked at her, wide-eyed with confusion. Of course. Mulder was always confused by anything personal. Or pretended to be. She wasn’t sure which. Sometimes she wasn’t sure that he even knew things WERE personal. Or could ever get that way. 

‘What is this?’ she said. ‘This thing we have. We share. Between us.’ 

He rocked back in his chair - an action she’d come to recognise as a defensive manoeuvre. Psychological distancing. The fact that it more effectively displayed his crotch to her never seemed to cross his mind. That that might be a mixed message. 

This thing. Between us.

‘I don’t know what you mean Scully.’

Of course he didn’t. He’d uncovered the secrets of the universe. Just not her. 

‘It’s not…’ she started, then stopped because it was the opening of a sentence that might take them anywhere. Good, or bad. She wasn’t sure she could risk it.

’Enough.’ 

She’d risked it. 

Scully felt her heart start to beat faster at the daring of the word. ‘It’s not,’ she started to qualify, but then just repeated, ‘enough’ and tilted her chin at him - defying him to say that it WAS enough. He couldn’t. Because it wasn’t. She’d said it and now it was up to him to say something back.

Mulder said nothing. 

He pursed his lips. He rocked slowly on his chair, swivelling slightly, in that irritating way. He’d tip over backwards one day and deserve it. He tapped a yellow pencil gently on the pad of his left forefinger. 

‘For me, anyway,’ she said. She wished she’d kept her mouth shut. She wished he’d stop moving gently with his hips in the air. She wished he’d stop that relentless pencil on that long, elegant finger. 

This was pointless. More of the same. Her wishing it could change, and him not changing. 

She sighed deeply and looked away from him. 

‘We all want more Scully.’ He cleared his throat and touched his tie. A nervous tic. As unconscious as the manspreading and the pencil. 

‘Do we?’ She snapped. He was going to turn it into something existential. Like that mattered. 

He said nothing again. 

‘I do,’ she said harshly. ‘I want more, Mulder. I’m— 

What? What WAS she? Exhausted. Frustrated. Furious. In love. 

She couldn’t say any of those things. 

‘Tired,’ she said, even though that was a pathetic excuse, like I’ve got a headache. And then even the thought of never telling Mulder she had a headache made her unbearably sad and, although it was a new high on the scale of mixed messages, it made her lip wobble again. 

‘Are you OK Scully?’

‘Do I SOUND OK Mulder?’ 

He blinked at her anger and sat up straight and put his pencil on the desk. Carefully, like a schoolboy. As if that was what had bothered her. Which it had, obviously, but only as much as his lips and his hips, and his eyes on her all the damn time but never his hands.

Never his hands…

He cleared his throat again. As if he was going to say something. As if he had anything TO say— 

Scully stopped breathing and felt her guts shrivel in horror.

Maybe Mulder HAD nothing to say to her. Maybe he was just this way. Maybe this infuriating, teasing, intense way he was with her was how he was with EVERYBODY. Maybe he looked confused because he WAS confused. About why Scully got snappy with him sometimes for no good reason. About why she treated him as if he was hers even though he WASN’T hers. As if he owed her something when he owed her nothing. 

She’d never thought this before. She wished she hadn’t now.

Maybe Mulder said nothing because he knew that the only thing he had to say would break her fucking HEART. 

‘Scully?’

She couldn’t look at him. Her heart beat in her throat and her face was aflame. The thought that he might know how in love she was made her feel impossibly exposed. If she looked at him now, he’d see it in her eyes and all would be lost. 

’Scully?’ His voice softer now. She couldn’t bear it. If she couldn’t have him, the last thing she wanted was his pity. She should get up and leave but she didn’t trust her legs. She felt dizzy with fear and regret. She should have just shut up. It had worked for six years, it would work for another six. Another sixty. She looked at the X-File open on her desk. 

Bigfoot. 

Bigfoot in big mouth. 

A tear plopped onto the grainy photo.

****

‘What IS this Mulder?’

‘What’s what Scully?’

‘THIS!’

Scully flapped a hand and Mulder frowned and wondered whether she meant something specific. There were the filing cabinets and the desks and his basketball hoop and many many scraps of paper pinned to the wall of the office which documented their life on the X Files. Mulder loved pinning a piece of paper to the wall. Each one reminded him of something they’d been through together. Some thrilling, some weird, some sad. Some sexy… When he wasn’t actually able to gaze at Scully - those few times when he was alone in the office, or when somebody else was in the room - then it was a secret pleasure to study these walls instead, and drift through his own vivid memories of her. In Mulder’s opinion the only thing that was wrong with the basement office was that there wasn’t more wall space. And more Scully.

‘This?’ He said. ‘This is our work Scully. Our life.’

Maybe he shouldn’t have added ‘our life’. It was presumptuous. Mulder was aware of that. She’d called him on it once and he’d tried hard not to repeat the error. Scully had her own life. Her own family - Maggie and Bill and Charlie, and Bill’s kids. She had girlfriends and possibly boyfriends. It was presumptuous of him to imagine that she considered him to be part of any more than her working life. He tried hard not to bring his desire to be more than that to the office, even though it was something that was impossible to leave at home, because it was as much part of him as his hands or his heart. 

‘But what IS it?’

Mulder was confused. What did she mean? It was work. It was what they DID. Every day. Together. 

‘What is this?’ she said. ‘This thing we have. We share. Between us.’ 

Mulder rocked back in his chair. He needed a moment to think about what she’d said. This thing they shared. That was work. Just work. Right? Because the way she said it… 

This thing. Between us.

What was there between them but the X Files? Anything more was just his own personal fantasy. A sad and lonely attempt to make a connection. And he had, hadn’t he? With Scully? He THOUGHT he had. He didn’t want to be presumptuous. 

‘I don’t know what you mean Scully.’

Of course he didn’t. He’d uncovered the secrets of the universe. Just not her. 

‘It’s not…’ she started, then stopped. Then finished with: ‘Enough.’ 

Mulder’s heart sunk. No, faster than sunk. Mulder’s heart crashed to Earth like a game bird shot out of the sky. They had come to the moment he’d been dreading since the beginning.

The end. 

The moment when Scully - stoic, patient, devoted Scully - finally lost the will to go on with this. With him. He didn’t know what he would do without her. Didn’t think he could do ANYTHING without her. 

Then she said it again like daggers in his heart. It’s. Not. Enough. And tilted her chin at him to show she was serious. He knew the signs. He knew she meant it. Scully never said anything she hadn’t thought through thoroughly first. 

He didn’t blame her. Of course she wanted more, and she deserved it. Far more than he could ever offer her down here in the basement. She was so smart, so kind, so beautiful. He was stunned that it had taken her so long to realise what a raw deal she was getting. Surely she should have seen that within weeks of arriving? He felt bad for not telling her himself. He should have. He’d often thought he should tell her. Except that whenever he’d thought about sitting her down and letting her know - you deserve better than this Scully \- his own selfish heart had got in the way. How could he show her the way to the life she deserved, when he wanted so badly to keep her for himself?

Mulder pursed his lips and rocked backwards in his chair and felt terrible. He tapped a yellow pencil gently on the pad of his left forefinger. 

‘For me, anyway,’ Scully said, and sighed deeply and looked away from him. 

It wasn’t enough for her. HE wasn’t enough for her. Mulder knew that, but it still made him feel defensive. He needed to tell her that he understood. That sometimes this life - this relentless quest - wasn’t enough for him either. That sometimes he just wanted to STOP. To take a break. To have an afternoon nap in the sun coming through his living room window; to stand on a beach and feel his bare feet sink into cool sand as the tide came in; to lift Scully’s chin up so that he could lower his lips to hers… 

‘We all want more Scully.’ 

‘Do we?’ She snapped, not hearing him. Not knowing how hard it was for him to open the door on his feelings. To expose himself in front of her. 

‘I do,’ she added harshly. ‘I want more, Mulder. I’m tired!’

Yep. This was the end. Tired of him. Tired of the X Files. And finally tired of pretending she wasn’t tired of it all. 

And she did look tired. Sad and tired, and her lower lip wobbled.

‘Are you OK Scully?’

‘Do I SOUND OK Mulder?’ 

Her anger cut him to the quick. Mulder blinked back tears and felt so foolish that he sat up straight and put his pencil on the desk. Carefully, like a schoolboy. He needed a moment to compose himself. 

He couldn’t beg her to stay, however much he wanted to. That wouldn’t be fair. He needed to act like a grown up here. The brutal truth was that he meant nothing to Scully. In her eyes he was no more than the line manager to whom she was required to hand her resignation. He needed to stay dignified. Make it easy for her to go - the way he should have done years before this. He just needed to keep it together. He cleared his throat again so that when he finally managed to speak, he wouldn’t be husky with loss. 

‘Scully?’

She wouldn’t look at him. 

’Scully?’ 

She she didn’t answer. Her head was down. She was reading the X-File open on her desk. Just another day at the office she’d soon be leaving behind. 

It was the Bigfoot file. His favourite. Even he didn’t believe it could be true, but BY GOD he still hoped. Still dreamed. Maybe one day…

How apt that that should be the last X File Dana Scully would ever read. That she’d be leaving him with Bigfoot and all the longing and vain, stupid hope that went with it…

The silence stretched between them but try as he might, Mulder’s throat was too tight to speak. All he could do was stare at the top of her head and want her.

A tear plopped onto the grainy photo.

‘Scully?’

She shook her head mutely, and wiped another tear off the tip of her nose. 

In a second, Mulder got up and rounded the desk and knelt beside her, taking her hands in his. Looking up into her face. 

‘Scully what’s wrong?’

‘This,’ she sobbed. 

‘What IS this?’ He said, confused, but desperate to understand. Desperate to help if he could. 

‘This thing we have,’ she sobbed. ‘Between us.’

The X Files? He nearly said, but, thank God, before he could, Scully looked at him. REALLY looked at him. A look that pierced his eyes and travelled straight and true to his heart like an arrow tipped with love. 

And, at long last, Fox Mulder understood. 

Everything. 

He cupped Scully's face in his hands, and smoothed her tears with his thumbs. 

‘Oh,’ he whispered, ‘THIS.’


End file.
